The Mother's Day Mystery
by Rose de Lafayette
Summary: My mother wanted me to write her a fanfiction for Mother's day...I tried. Anyway...Holmes doesn't know what to get his mother for Mother's Day...can Watson help?


The Mother's Day Mystery

29/03/1889

During my acquaintance with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, there had always been somewhat of an unspoken pact among us to stray away from certain topics of conversation. Aside from my knowledge of his older brother's existence, and that his grandmother was the sister of the French artist, Horace Vernet, I knew nothing of his family, and he knew next to nothing of mine. Thus it was on the 29th of March,* to my surprise, Holmes posed a question concerning his mother.

I had just woken up and entered the sitting room and was welcomed by the sight of Sherlock Holmes frantically pacing the length of our sitting room, smoking his morning pipe. There was such a pained expression on his normally neutral countenance, as though he had just been told a universal truth, and found it worrisome beyond all telling.

"There you are, Watson," he said without stopping to look at me or break from his pacing, "I find myself in a terrible quandary and require your input."

"My dear fellow I would be glad to help. What is it, a case?" I asked as I sat down on the settee.

"Nothing of the sort, my dear Watson. I will not fall into your habit of starting a story at the finish, so I will get to the point. This Sunday is Mother's Day," he replied with a near hysterical rapidity.

"Then what is the problem, Holmes," I said. He swiftly turned to face me with an air of exasperation.

"The problem is, Watson, I do not know what to get my mother! I have been preoccupied with several cases and have had no time to plan a present. Mycroft will surely show me up! I simply cannot allow this!" he explained as he flopped down into his chair and put his head in his hands.

It has been many years since I took note of Mother's Day, considering my mother died when I was quite young and therefore had no reason to celebrate said holiday, so I was quite at a loss myself. I also took pause because this is the most Holmes has ever been so open about his personal life and I was gladdened by the fact he felt comfortable enough to share this personal problem with me.

"How about a nice handwritten card?" I suggested.

"Far to common," he mumbled into his hands.

"Well what does she like?"

"I am unsure..."

"Jewelry?"

"I do not know."

"Does she have a favorite dessert?"

"I am unsure...I suppose she does."

"Does she have a favorite flower?"

"I could not say."

"By Jove man, are you pulling my leg? Does this woman even exist?"

"Of course she exists, Watson! Don't be ridiculous! I have just...never been much of a gift giver. I never noticed...these things you ask," he sighed heavily and shook his head. After several minutes of quiet contemplation an idea struck me.

"You are going to visit her for the holiday, I presume."

"But of course."

"Then why not compose a violin piece and name it after her," I suggested. Holmes lifted his head from his hand and stared at me with wide eyes, and after several seconds his face brightened.

"Whatever would I do without you my dear fellow! I will get started on a piece right away! I shall indeed name it after her, what a splendid idea!" He exclaimed as he went to pick up his violin and began playing a few cords.

"Might I ask what your mother's name is, Holmes?"

"Ann Elizabeth Olsen*...ah...you see when my father died she began using her maiden name."

"I see...Holmes?"

"Yes, Watson?"

I wished to thank him for sharing his personal life with me but found I could not form the right words. Instead I told him I was going to my club for breakfast and shall return later in the day. When I returned he played for me, Ann Elizabeth Olsen in the key of F. It was indeed a lovely piece and when he returned from his mother's I was repeatedly reminded that his mother quite enjoyed it and he surpassed Mycroft, who had settled for a handwritten card.

Who knows. Maybe Holmes will be comfortable enough to one day introduce me to his mother...I would like to meet her...even if it's just to prove that she exists.*

~I looked it up and I guess in 1889, Mother's day (or Mothering Sunday) was on 31/03/1889. Not sure if the two are the same holiday...I'm not British so I don't really know...

~Happy Mother's Day! I love you mom!

~ "...even if it's just to prove that she exists." Anyone?


End file.
